How to Save a Life
by Hurricane Amy
Summary: Two-shot about Amelia's overdose when she was eighteen. Derek's POV as he finds her in their bathroom, unconscious and dying, and Amelia's POV waking up in the hospital.
1. How to Save a Life

**A/N:** For a long time, I've wanted a drabble about Amelia's overdose when she was a teen - the reason she got clean the first time - but I haven't known how to write it until now. It differs from most of my drabbles in that it's primarily Derek's POV, rather than Amelia's, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. Hope you enjoy.

Bass pumped through the halls of the Shepherd house, so loud the picture frames starting to shake. Staged photos of familial joy unfolded a tapestry of their lives down the walls of their home, the smile on the lips of the youngest becoming smaller and smaller until the last, where it had disappeared altogether, along with its owner. They had waited hours for her to arrive, but to no avail. It wasn't until 2 AM that the teen stumbled in, eyeliner smeared, and a smirk upon chapped lips. Not once did she apologize or offer explanation. Leather boots clanked beneath her as she carried herself to her room - the room he now sought, the source of the sound, and where he hoped Amy would be.

Face flushed red, blood boiling beneath the surface, the only son of Carolyn and Christopher made his way past the portraits to find his baby sister before their mother returned from her errands. The hardest-working woman he had ever met, his mother shouldn't have to deal with this kind of heartbreak. Hadn't the littlest brought about enough of that already? From the raves to sleepovers at the apartment of the scumbag she called a boyfriend to the totaled car and binge-drinking, the girl had driven their family crazy with worry, but this? This was the last straw.

Long had Derek suspected that her new-found happiness was discovered at the bottom of a pill bottle, but never had he imagined her to stoop this low. Addison had tried to convince him it must have been an accident - that he had lost his prescription pad - but he knew it had been at the hands of the barely-eighteen year old it had gone missing. No longer could he give Amy the benefit of the doubt. No longer could he enable her self-destruction. No matter how long they all tried to dance around it - no matter how hard they tried to convince themselves she wasn't _that_ bad, she would get better - the problem only seemed to get worse, and he intended to put an end to that.

He called for her, voice gruff and unforgiving. This wasn't going to be a family heart-to-heart. He would force her into rehab if he had to, or she would find a new home; perhaps with that horrid boyfriend of hers. Tough love; it was all he had left. So he stormed into her room, refusing to be ignored.

Cerulean eyes danced around the room, from the posters of pop stars to feathered pens and clothes strewn carelessly about the floor, until they finally landed on the empty pill bottle atop the girl's unmade bed. His heart sank, the sound of its beat pounding in her ear. But Amy was no where to be seen. A hand reached over to turn off the music, and he called her name once more, to no avail.

Stepping back into the hall, it was only then Derek noticed a line of light coming from beneath the door of the bathroom, and moved toward it. "Amy? Amy, open this door right now. We need to talk. You can't hide in there forever!" But all he got in return was more silence. "Amelia!"

He waited another beat before turning the knob and granting himself entrance, eyes widening at the sight that befell his gaze in return. Pale cheeks against the cold tile of the floor, tangles of hair across her face, bones jutting out from the bluish skin of her frail body. Rushing over to fall at her side, Derek turned her over to find her features a mess, from the smeared makeup to lines of dried spit dribbled down the side of her chin. Her lips had a purple tint that sent a horrible pang through her heart. The breath left his throat.

"Amelia- - -"

Fingers felt for a pulse, finding it weak and unsteady. He scrambled to grab his phone, now thankful Addie had insisted on this _cellular phone_ business as he flipped it open to dial for an ambulance.

Thinking back to what he had learned of overdose, Derek started speaking loudly to her, trying to wake her but to no avail. He ran his knuckles along her sternum as he was taught, and it seemed centuries had passed, but her eyes flickered open. "Amy! Amy, can you hear me? Stay with me, okay? We'll get you to a hospital. It'll be okay. You'll be okay." The words were almost more for his own benefit than for hers.

Cracked lips parted, a small breath emerging as she tried and failed to respond. The crease between his brows deepened - a bad sign. He turned her onto her side into recovery position.

"Don't try to talk. Just breathe. Just breathe. I've got you." Derek sniffed, trying to force back the lump in his throat, the cold panic rushing through his veins. "I've got you," he repeated, brushing the hair from the clammy skin of her forehead.

Time seemed to drag on forever as they waited for the ambulance to arrive, as if it slowed just for them, an eternity spent in that bathroom, just the two of them wondering if each moment might be her last. His hand wrapped around hers, thumb making small circles as he mumbled reassurances and tried to keep his sister awake.

Dull eyes bulged, a sudden rush of fear as her muscles tightened for a moment, then fell limp again. Hoarse, pathetic sounds emanated from Amelia's throat as she desperately began to gasp for air. He felt so powerless, panic erasing all rational thought as he watched the girl clawing at the edge, scrambling so helplessly to cling to her life. He sprung to action, but not fast enough, and she was out again - this time, without a pulse. _Oh, God_.

"I will _not_ lose you, Amelia. You are not dying tonight." His voice was weak and scared, but fear wouldn't stop him. Turning her onto her back, he began heavy chest compressions to keep her heart beating until help arrived.

The clock stopped, every second taking a century to pass, ears ringing as he fought to keep his sister alive. Only three minutes passed before paramedics rushed inside, the clunking of their boots against hardwood floors hardly registering until he was forced to move his fists just long enough that her shirt could be undone. His gaze followed every movement as pads were stuck to her chest, and the machine was charged. He was pulled away, everything drifting into a blur as the teen was jolted, body jolted over and over, until he was certain she wasn't coming back.

Fingers trembled, but all he could do was to stand and watch. No words, no tears, no cries. Just deathly silence and a pain in his heart that could never quite be explained nor matched. For all the growing she had done, as he looked at Amy now, all he could see was the little five year old girl in the back of their father's store laying before him. His baby sister - the one he had sworn to protect, the one he promised his father he would always keep safe. He had tried so hard to live up to his word, but nothing was ever quite enough when dealing with her. _Quiet_ and _safe_ seemed words outside her vocabulary, and she was anything but.

God, how was he supposed to tell his mother that her baby girl was dead? How was he going to tell his sisters and Addison and everyone else that he was too late? That he had failed at his job as big brother. How was he supposed to live with himself? His own heart may as well have been the one to give out because in that moment, he wanted to die with her. This never should have happened. He was supposed to protect her.

"We have a pulse," one of the paramedics announced, pulling Derek's attention back into reality. _We have a pulse_. It was weak and unstable, but it was there. She was alive. She had a chance. And yet he could still barely find it within himself to breathe.

Derek stayed with her the whole ride to the hospital, trying to find within himself the strength to call someone - _anyone_ \- to let them know what happened, but barely being able to breathe a word to Addison, except to tell her to meet him at the ambulance bay. The tone of his voice and the sound of sirens in the background told the redhead to hurry, and she quickly grabbed the arm of his best friend, dragging Mark down with her.

"Derek, what happened?" Addison asked, rushing over as he jumped out of the ambulance only minutes later. Brow creased, her eyes widened as she saw the tiny frame of her youngest bridesmaid being pulled out on a stretcher, oxygen mask firmly attached to her face.

"Oh my god," Mark exhaled, shock washing over him for the girl who had become like family. His gaze flicked between Derek and the stretcher as he and the redhead took off after them.

From outside the window of her room, the three watched as doctors they would normally trust with any other case rushed around Amelia, hooking her up with more tubes and wires than they could count. For everything worse they had seen, nothing hurt as much as this. The world around them seemed to melt away. None of them could find words in that moment, mouths agape as they looked on in piercing silence. Addie's hand rested on her husband's arm but he stepped away. Derek's jaw clenched, swallowing hard, his eyes never leaving his sister, even for a second. Stoic and strong he stood, almost too calm, too together.

Slowly, others began to trickle in, Kathleen and Lizzie, and Nancy with all of her kids since she had no one to care for them so late at night with her husband away. Sam and Naomi dropped in to check up on them, and finally, Carolyn arrived. The mother stood as strong as her son, perfect posture and composure, but tears formed behind her eyes and her lip quivered with every fresh bit of information. Everyone else seemed to tell the story, and Derek didn't bother to fight it. He had no desire to relive that experience - especially not aloud. She sat herself in the waiting room, reaching out for Derek's hand as they sat forward-facing, speaking not a word. What was there to say when Amy might be dead? Nothing could erase that, and neither was willing to try, despite the efforts of the other women.

Hours passed, but the daze that overtook them, burying each in their thoughts. Kids ran around, Addison made awkward small-talk with her in-laws, and Mark pretended not to cry, but mother and son sat in quiet contemplation, barely acknowledging anything until the girl's doctor approached. Derek stood, wrapping his arm around his mom as they listened to the explanation given. But it was one word that finally stuck out: _stable_. "We finally got her stabilized. She's weak, and she needs rest. We'll have to keep an eye on her, but her condition is stable for now and you should be able to visit with your daughter in the morning," he nodded to Carolyn. She smiled, forcing back her cry as she sat back in her seat.

"Mom, are you-"

"I'm fine, dear," she interrupted. "I'm perfectly fine. Don't worry. Just go home and get some rest." She motioned toward her older daughters. "And you take those kids home to bed. Three A.M. in a hospital waiting room is no place for children. I'm just going to stay here awhile. You go home." She brought her eyes to meet those of her boy, giving him the look he knew so well - the one he knew better than to argue with.

"Call me if you need anything. Have the hospital page. I'll be right here," he offered, ever the dutiful son.

"I will, honey. Now go. And tell Addison to stop hovering. It's weirding me out."

She forced a smile to her lips, and he returned the gesture, turning to leave, marking a steady pace to the parking lot, only voicing himself long enough to ask for the keys so he could drive them home.

"Derek," Addison began, looking over at her husband from the passenger side of her vehicle, "you haven't said a word all night."

"What is there to say? Amy- My sister stole my prescription pad, wrote herself god-knows-how-many scripts, and took so many I found her unconscious on the bathroom floor. I did CPR until the paramedics arrived. She was dead, Addison. She was dead for three minutes. I watched my baby sister die. So what do you want me to say? What is there to say?"

"Derek-"

"I don't want to talk about it, Addison. Leave it alone. She's fine. I'm fine. We're all-" He paused, taking a breath. "Drop it."

His hands gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles began to turn white from the strain. She clicked her tongue, trying to work out a response, but she knew that look. It wasn't one she saw often, but it was enough to convince her to back down just for the night. They could fight about it in the morning, and she was sure they would.

Addie paused in the doorway to hang their coats and put away their shoes, but Derek simply kicked off his garments and wandered off to their bedroom. He pulled on pajamas and locked the door behind him as he entered the master bathroom. A few beats passed, a few breaths, and he fell back against the wall, Inhales turned to gasps as he crumbled to the floor, burying his head in his hands, tears welling in his eyes. Fierce sobs began to overtake, finally succumbing to the overwhelming mixture of fear and bitterness, rage and devastation that had pooled and festered since the moment he found Amelia. It all hit at once, too much to handle and it lasted until he was certain he could take no more, until his body ran out of energy and tears.

How was he supposed to survive this? How was he supposed to forgive her? How was he ever going to look her in the eye without seeing the empty look he had seen tonight? Amelia may have lived, but it felt as if he had lost her. It was a heartbreak beyond anything he had ever imagined before, and it was one he could never experience again.

Forcing himself to his feet, Derek made his way to the sink, sniffing hard and rushing cold water against his face. It's over. It was over. He did his part and now he was done. He pushed away the pain in his chest, constricting, making it hard to breathe, and wandered back out into bed. _It's over_.


	2. A New You

**A/** N: I was asked by a bunch of people to do a follow-up to the last chapter, so here you go. Ask and you shall receive.

The first thing she became aware of was her breath. Inhaling and exhaling at an unsteady pace; labored and scared, a dulled panic without a source. A hollow space in her chest turning back to the void she had tried for so long to fill. The second thing she became aware of was the buzzing and beeping of machines all around her. Those were relatively steady. Brows furrowed, focusing in on the sound and trying to determine its purpose and origin. Eyes fluttered open, nearly blinded by fluorescent lights, so the third thing she became aware of was that she was in the hospital. She was in the hospital and she couldn't remember why.

Amelia blinked, attempting to adjust to the brightness of the room, cerulean orbs trailing each tube and wire, realizing her stomach had been pumped, and her heart was being closely monitored. She tried to lift a hand to brush the hair from her eyes, but it hurt more than she expected, like she had done hours of intense cardio after months of sedentary living. This wasn't like the time the police found her in the alley and brought her home, or the time after when she spent the night in a holding cell. Something bad had happened. That much was abundantly obvious.

The youngest Shepherd strove to remember the previous night's events, what could have landed her in this medical prison. Loud music. A celebration of sorts, but alone in her room. It was the grungy kind of bass-filled track that made her feel strong, powerful. Like when she heard that, clad in ripped jeans and belly shirts under leather jackets, she was wild and free. She was in control. Hadn't that been all she wanted? All she was trying to achieve? Freedom from the chains of her memories, from the sadness and anxiety that filled her veins with every breath? From the expectations of her family? From the hold of her boyfriend? Wasn't that why she had stolen Derek's prescription pad?

The prescription pad. Her pathway to independence, no longer relying on Robbie or his friends for a hit, and her night had been spent enjoying the spoils of her successful endeavor. Locked away in her room, arrogance had her swallow the tablets faster than normal, enjoying the rush and the buzz without stopping to savor anything. Her only goal was to get as high as possible to drown all her pains. The only road to happiness was paved in yellow bricks and found at the bottom of each bottle. And happiness she found.

The rest hit like a wave, a broken dam allowing her mind to be flooded with terrible images. Derek crouched over her, whispering comforts. All she could feel was cool, hard tile beneath her body, and piercing panic as she felt her chest begin to tighten. She would have begged for help if only she could speak, but the more she tried, the harder breathing became. The sounds of her desperate gasps scared her almost as much as the action itself, a pathetic, dying noise she was certain would be her last. Her brother's eyes widened in terror despite the calm in his voice, the thoughtfulness of his actions. She trusted him, but not enough. It hurt too much. She was too weak to fight. And blackness overtook. Emptiness as the void in her chest extended outward, swallowing her whole. It was her end. It should have been her end.

Tears welled in wide eyes, lip quivering as she was hit with the memory. A lump formed in her throat and she shot up, clutching at her chest. "I can't breathe! I can't breathe!" Amelia exclaimed, a river forming down her cheeks as her words punctured with sobs. "I can't breathe!"

Within seconds, Carolyn had shot up and to her side, a doctor rushing in to make sure she was okay.

"She's having a panic attack," the stranger muttered to Carolyn. "We can give her a mild sedative, but given her condition, we wouldn't suggest anything much stronger." The older woman paused, looking over at her daughter a second before nodding.

Her hand brushed through her little girl's hair, and she cooed reassurances, falling on deaf ears for the most part. "Amy, look at me," she instructed, taking the teen's chin in her hand and gently moving over her gaze. "Can you hear me?"

A few more gasps and finally a nod from the tiny brunette. The only response she could manage.

"Amy, honey, it will be alright, just focus on my voice. The doctor is taking care of you. He's going to make sure you get enough oxygen, and neither of us are going to let anything happen to you. Do you understand?" She started to babble reassurances, distracting the patient until she had calmed, her breathing not quite normal, but close enough that her chest no longer heaved and she was able to lay back against the thin mattress. The tears were all that seemed to remain. The tears and the guilt.

Lip trembling, Amelia was punched in the gut with the feelings she had tried so hard to push away, to deny. All the mistakes she had made, the horrible things she had said and done over the past year coming back to haunt her. The drugs had felt so right in the moment. They had given her this security, and a false sense of life. Since her father's death, she had lived life under a veil of black, shading her away from the world, from its joys and wonders. Oxy had become her release, what finally lifted the darkness, and it was only then she realized it had been replaced with a virtual reality screen. She might not see the bad anymore, but nothing she had experienced was real, either. It felt good – _great_ , even – but it wasn't real. All it was, was pain. And she had allowed herself to _die_ to keep the dream alive. No more.

The pain she felt the night before was more than she was certain anyone should have to bear. All the dreams and hopes she had held in her heart were set aflame and left to burn in front of her as she choked on the smoke. All the people she loved, and the look in Derek's eye forever burned into her brain – none of that was worth the fraudulent mask of peace she had stolen.

Sobriety experienced for the first time in what seemed like eternity, Amelia felt as if she had been reborn, but something went wrong. She still carried the weight of the crimes from her past life, and though she had been so profoundly changed in a matter of one night, she had to answer for those mistakes. She felt like a child laying there, eyes still fixed upon her mother, though she had long-stopped listening to a word she said. And god, even now, she still wanted to use. She still wanted to get high and just forget all of this ever happened. But if she did, this time there would be no coming back.

Sucking in a breath, the youngest Shepherd brushed away her tears with the back of her hand. "Mom?" she muttered, barely above a whisper. "Mom?"

Carolyn paused mid-sentence, expression falling as the gravity of her daughter's voice hit her ears. For all the ways she wanted to scream – for all the words she had for the girl – all she cared about in that moment was that Amelia was alive. She was alive and breathing and sitting right in front of her. The anger could wait. "What is it, dear?"

"I'm, um– I died," she stated, sniffing. "I was dead."

The older woman swallowed, giving a single nod as her gaze fell away. "Yes, dear, you were."

The teen shook her head. "I don't want to die. I don't. I want–" Her voice caught, and the girl bit down on her tongue. "I don't want to die."

A hand reached out for hers, giving a gentle squeeze. "You gave us all quite a scare.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so, _so_ sorry. I can't– I don't know how– I'm sorry." Her body deflated, falling in on itself as she blinked back the salt water filling her eyes once more. "I'm sorry for everything."

Carolyn inhaled, flaring her nostrils as she bit back words of her own, reminding herself again and again that now was not the time. "I know you are, Amy."

Silence dropped upon the room. Oceanic eyes fell to her hands, picking at the skin around her cuticles. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, nauseous and afraid. She wanted to say something, but what was there? Nothing could make up for any of what she had caused. Nothing could erase what she had been through.

"Amelia, I want you to go to rehab."

She opened her mouth to reply, but either she took too long or the older woman stepped in too quickly, because nothing but a squeak emerged before Carolyn continued.

"If you truly are sorry, if you want to get better, you will go to rehab. Kathleen has found you a bed in what I'm told is a wonderful facility, and they'll help you–" Her voice broke, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. "They'll help you through this."

"Mom, are you–"

"I'm fine, Amy. Don't worry."

A crease formed between Amelia's brows, and she held back from reaching out. "Mom, I'm sorry."

"You already said that, dear. I know you're sorry." Carolyn paused, eyes narrowing as she cocked her head to the side a moment, then matched her daughter's gaze once more. "No, actually, I don't know. You have put your brother and sisters and me through hell this last year, and I'm not sure you understand the weight of what you've done. Like you said, you died, Amelia. You died, and we watched. We were helpless to do anything, and had Derek not found you– I love you. I love you more than you could ever hope to imagine. But I cannot go through this again. And I suspect if you're serious about being sorry, if you really don't want to die, then you know rehab is really the only option you have left. You can leave and go back to that boyfriend of yours, but you will not come home. You will not. Not until you're ready to get clean. Because I won't put our family through that again. I will not put myself through it."

Amelia nodded, but it was a moment before she could answer. Her skin itched in discomfort, pure desperation to escape, and yet she knew the other woman was right. She wanted to live more than anything, to have the chance to make up for what she had done, and to have a future all her own. Since the age of six, the youngest of the Shepherd kids had known she wanted to be a surgeon – a neurosurgeon, to be precise – and to be married, to have kids. She couldn't do those things if she was using. And the freedom she had wanted so desperately to obtain would mean nothing if it was won in exchange for a new tether, tied forever to an eternal need, everlasting cravings overpowering everything until it finally succeeded in killing her. This was her second chance. So why wasn't _yes_ an easier word to find.

"I'm scared," she whispered, shaking her head. "What if I can't do it? What if I'm not–"

"Not strong enough?"

"Yeah."

"Amelia Grace Shepherd, you are one of the strongest, bravest people I have ever met. You used to set fireworks off in our backyard to stop yourself from being afraid of loud noises. When the little neighbor boys picked on you, you never came running inside. You kicked them in the chins and threw bugs at them until they apologized. You, my darling, have never backed down from anything. And I am not about to let you start now."

Shifting in her place, the girl tried again. "What if I fail?" _What if I disappoint everyone again?_

"I'll let you in on a little secret. The only way to fail is not to fight. If you give up before you even try– That is when you fail." Carolyn took a breath, setting her jaw. "The way I see it, you have two options here, Amy. What will it be?"

"Will you come visit?"

"I'll come every day if you want me to."

Amelia was quiet, pulling her knees up to her chest as she contemplated the offer. Her mother made it sound so simple, so black-and-white, but it was so far from that. An ache in her chest reminded her of all the reasons she should be a coward, run away and go back to her boyfriend and the life they had. He used her for her body, she used him for drugs, and neither held true happiness in their hearts. But the Shepherd matriarch was right. She didn't back down. She never had, and she wasn't about to start now. She wanted to live, so she would – even if all that kept her going was sheer force of will. "– – –Okay."

"Okay, you'll go?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I'll go. I meant it, Mom. I want to live. I can't– I don't want to be like this anymore."

Carolyn reached back out for Amy's hand. "We'll get you through this, Amy. I promise. In the meantime, you should get some rest."

"Can I see Derek?"

The older woman's expression faltered just slightly, gaze shifting uncomfortably away. "I don't know if that's a good idea, honey. You really should sleep. And he's very busy, you know."

"I know, but I want– I have to tell him– Please?"

"I don't–" She swallowed, a single nod in return. Those big, sad eyes always were impossible to ignore. "I'll tell him you asked for him."

Excuses. The message read loud and clear. _He's not coming_. "Thanks," she muttered, leaning back again.

"I'll be back to check on you shortly."

"Okay." She curled up on her side, pulling the blankets tight over her shoulders and squeezing her eyes closed to will away the thoughts. No one could understand the pain of death unless they, too, had experienced it. Isolating and humbling, and altogether horrifying, the moment replayed in her head like a video recording, a slow-motion replay. Gasping for life, begging for a second chance – and now she had it. Even from her place in the back of her father's store, she had never been this terrified, this fragile, this utterly alone. Amelia took a breath, digging her nails into her palm. Her mother's words echoed in her mind: _The only way to fail is not to fight_. So she had to fight. Even if it meant going down swinging.


End file.
